


as sweet as cherry lollipops

by Nehanshika_524



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, LGBT+ themes, Light Angst, M/M, Trans Keith (Voltron), all that good shit, also Hunk works at a bakery!, some angst but like. mostly fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 08:27:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11940255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehanshika_524/pseuds/Nehanshika_524
Summary: A lonely runaway, a goofy cashier, and a lot of overly sweetened coffee (and overly sweetened words).





	as sweet as cherry lollipops

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this idea in my head for a while, but i could never figure out how to keep writing it from the second chapter. finally, i decided, "screw it, i'm just gonna post it", so uh... don't hang out for a new chapter too soon! it'll come eventually, just not today, hehe.

Lance sighed, leaning forward on the countertop, resting his chin on his palm. He glanced at his phone- 5:29. Still two hours to go. He’d been here for five hours already. This café job certainly wasn’t what he’d expected, but… Whatever. As long as he got some money out of it, he was fine.

He decided to try and sneak another look at his phone, because constantly checking the time apparently makes it go by more quickly, but it had decided to falter him, to die, to completely abandon him, alone and helpless, with nothing to distract him, two hours until the end of his shift, in a brightly-lit café.

Lance groaned. He really should have charged it the night before. Slipping it back in his pocket, Lance assumed a fake, hopefully charming smile and straightened his posture as a man came up to the counter. He looked  _very_  angry. Lance kept smiling, asking “Can I help you, sir?” in as chirpy a voice as possible.

The man’s face darkened; Lance’s smile faltered, and he felt his stomach drop into his shoes.  _Haha, crud._

“You- you people!” He scolded Lance. “You people have the audacity! To advocate! For GAYS! This is a CAFÉ! People should be allowed to drink coffee in peace without your agenda being shoved in our faces!”

Lance’s smile dissolved into a scowl, irritation rising.  _It’s just a sticker on the door, dude, chill out._  “Well,  _sir_ , if you have a problem with the way we run our establishment, take it up with the manag-“

“You shouldn’t approve of it! I’ll go ELSEWHERE for my coffee from now on!” He snapped, as if it were somehow a deadly insult to say you were gonna buy your bean water from a different café.

Tip: It really wasn’t.

“You sure you couldn’t use a coffee to warm up that cold, dead heart of yours?” Lance shot back with overdone cheerfulness. The man was visibly shaking, face screwed up in the most wrinkly, stormy look Lance had ever seen. He stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The other customers quietly pretended they didn’t notice a thing, instead going back to their food. Lance slumped against the marble counter. Why did people have to be so angry about this? Cafés aren’t for homophobes to preach their stupid opinions. Cafés were just for coffee and overpriced cake, where you could sit back for a moment or two and ignore the world. At least, that’s how Lance always viewed it.

Why had nobody stepped in, either? What the hell? No, actually, he thought, they shouldn’t be expected to. After all, cafés- this one in particular, too- were places to avoid drama, not get caught up in it.

Person after person sauntered up and ordered, the nicer ones leaving a tip, the meaner ones loudly voicing a complaint. Hours passed and Lance felt like his brain was melting.

“Hi, can I have a regular soy chai latte?” Was a perfectly valid request, and Lance would be happy to oblige and provide them with their order. Soy or almond milk was no trouble, even if it was a particularly difficult order, and who was he to deny them basic goods and services?

But when someone stood there for a full minute describing their order down to the last detail, it got a little old. Especially if they went off at Lance for not magically providing it in under three seconds, or giving someone else their (smaller, less difficult) order first, if they had ordered it afterwards.

“One Venti iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, extra shot, light ice and no whip!” She snapped at him, as if he’d done something wrong already. He sighed, typing it up. “Cool. That’ll be $12.50. Cash or-“

“Credit. Paypass.” She interrupted, shoving the card at him. _Okay…_ He set up the reader and tapped her card across it. She snatched it back the second the payment was approved, and Lance began to get uneasy, sensing a Bad Time ahead.

As one of his co-workers began on her order, Lance tried to see who was behind her in line. She stood there resolutely, as if staring indignantly at the cashier would make her coffee appear more quickly.

“U-um, ma’am, I’m gonna need to serve people behind you, so if you could just—“

“I _want_ my coffee.”

Lance was almost sure he saw fangs when she spoke. He tried not to shudder, instead plastering another fake smile on his face. “Sorry, ma’am, it’s going to take a while to m—“

“I paid for my coffee, now give it to me.”

 _How many times is she gonna interrupt me?_ “As I said, it won’t be ready right away, so please just take a ticket and wait.” The smile was failing him, and it wasn’t helping anyway, so he dropped it. She remained in the same spot, still staring him down.

_@ God: Why me? Can’t I just have one good day? Please?_

The people behind the woman in line were starting to complain, the uneasy feeling in Lance’s stomach growing. Oh, Jesus. They were getting loud, wondering what the holdup was. A headache began building at the back of his head.

Once again, he tried to explain her coffee wasn’t magically ready just because she’d ordered it. She got all huffy, like they always do, and at this point, Lance couldn’t take any more bullcrap, and completely tuned her out while she ranted and raved.

She stalked away from him, heels clacking loudly on the shiny floor. He more than half-hoped she’d slip.

“Have a nice day,” Lance muttered under his breath as the customer slammed the door behind her, the silver bell jangling angrily in her wake. He swore if he heard that bell again he’d go mad, and, head pounding, tipped her disgusting order into the trash.

Lance slumped across the speckled-marble counter, staring longingly at the clock. It’s pink hands ticked away at the even pinker numbers, surrounded by an expanse of More Pink Except It’s Paler Pink. Lance had no problem with the colour pink, especially not pastel pink, but having three or four different shades on just one clock seemed a bit excessive. Still, though, he guessed it was… kind of nice?

A cute, peppy pop song played faintly in the background. Lance had heard it before- it usually played at the café. He sang along quietly, tapping his fingers along to the beat as the clock’s hands ticked ever closer to seven thirty-five. Lance found himself unable to tear his gaze away as closing time drew ever near, and the number of people in the café began to dwindle. He wished it was sooner- his feet were absolutely aching, his head Really Hurt and he just wanted to go home.

Finally, the time came, and Lance practically leapt at the door to flip the sign from “OPEN!” to “CLOSED”. Shiro always said he was allowed to lock up ten or so minutes early, but Lance still waited until 7:35 exactly to start cleaning the place up and closing for the night, just in case.

He collapsed into one of the booths, sinking into the pastel blue faux-leather seats and putting his feet up onto the tables. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the music, grateful for this moment of peace. Finally.

That obnoxious bell had the nerve- the _audacity_ \- to jingle cheerily as the door opened. He’d forgotten to actually lock the door. Full of every regret he had carried in his entire life, Lance opened an eye to see who it was. His annoyance dissolved completely as he leapt up from the booth and ran towards them.

“Hunk! Blessed Hunk, bringer of donuts and good hugs! I am so glad to see you, holy shit. It has been the worst day, I had to deal with so many angry customers… Like, if you don’t approve of safe spaces, why come yell at the cashier? It doesn’t make any sense, Hunk, it just doesn’t…”

Hunk patted him on the back. “I know, buddy. Wanna sit down? I brought extra today, ‘cause the boss was nice enough to let me take some of the donuts for lunch. I think she knew they were really for you, but whatever.”

They both sat at the nearest table, Lance thanking his friend a hundred times over for the blessing of pastry. “Hunk! My dude! Are these chocolate? You always come through for me, oh my God. Can I get you a coffee, or something?”

Hunk shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Besides, last time you tried to figure out the coffee machine, you ended up spraying the whole kitchen with cream.” He said, taking out a chocolate donut for Lance and a strawberry one for himself. Lance cringed at the memory-  _I just wanted to make some coffee for my friend,_  he thought forlornly.

There was silence for a moment or two whilst they ate, save for the familiar, repetitive song playing quietly throughout the café.

“So,” Lance asked after a while, swallowing his last bite of donut. “You asked out Shay yet?”

Hunk almost choked on his food. “Uh, no? She’s my boss, Lance, I can’t just... Well, you know. It’d be inappropriate.” He fidgeted with his hands for a second before throwing the question right back to Lance. “You find yourself a boyfriend yet?”

“Dude, I’m bisexual. I like girls too, ya know. But no. I had my eye on Allura, but I’m pretty sure she’s got a girlfriend.”

Hunk made a noise of pity and reached for another donut. “Well, Lance, you never know. Maybe your future boyfriend-slash-girlfriend is just about to walk through that door.” He offered a cupcake to Lance. “Want one? I managed to grab two, so…”

Lance scoffed, but took it from him. “Yeah, right. The next person to walk through that door is just gonna be some random customer I’ll never see again. Wanna help me clean this place up?”

“Alright, on one condition- I bet twenty dollars and a free coffee that the next person to enter this building will become the love of your life.”

“You may as well just gimme the twenty and the coffee right now, seeing as only demons and pastry-bringers walk through that door.” He shoved the cupcake- yes, the entire thing- into his mouth, scooted out of his seat, opened the janitorial closet and tossed a mop to Hunk.

This was, of course, before Keith showed up.

* * *

 

As the boy shivered in the rain, leaning against a wall slick with water, soaking wet and carrying a backpack with all the belongings he cared about, he realised he had well and truly fucked up. Maybe he should go back…

 

_“We can’t let her believe that nonsense! The Lord doesn’t make mistakes, you know.”_

 

_“I know, hun. I’m sure she’ll learn that, too. I’ve sent in an enrolment form for St. Mary’s- maybe they can stomp this ‘queer’ business out of her.”_

 

_“I hope so.”_

 

He gritted his teeth. No, he couldn’t go back. Now that he’d left it all behind, the only way to go was forward. He pushed himself off the wall and continued on his way, ignoring the cold, harsh rain and instead searching for the brightly-lit sign reading “Shiro’s Barista”.

Keith found it- finally- and dragged himself towards the door, cold, wet and absolutely fucking exhausted. The lights were still on- he could see two people inside, laughing and dancing to some loud, obnoxious song while they cleaned. If you could call using broomsticks as guitars and dancing to _Despacito_ “cleaning”.

He knocked on the door. No response. He knocked louder, and louder, frozen fingers aching and just about ready to smash the glass door open. Just as he was preparing to actually do so, one of the people inside caught his eye and came over, opening the door. The first thing Keith noticed was that he was tall- taller than Keith, he noted with annoyance. The second thing he noticed were that people’s eyes weren’t meant to be that _blue._

“Sorry, dude, we’re actually cl…” His alarmingly bright eyes widened as he took in Keith’s state, and he went quiet.

 _Yeah, yeah, take your time._ Keith gritted his teeth, but he didn’t have the energy to yell.

“…You’d better come in,” the boy said as he stepped aside, allowing Keith through. “Hey, Hunk! Go get the keys for the room upstairs. And call Shiro.”

**Author's Note:**

> by the way, Lance's "experiences" were based on hella true stories from when i did work experience at my local cafe (i had a rainbow wristband on). i wish i was as smooth as Lance, but i think i just stuttered out a "screw you" and waited for them to leave lmao  
> please, do let me know what you thought! even if it's just a smiley-face and a "love it!", every positive comment is appreciated c:
> 
> questions? comments? requests? hmu on my writing blog: dhillarearenn !


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